Even the Strongest
by In the Face of Darkness
Summary: Set during the episode Blinded by the Thousand Points of Light. What happens when Booker gets picked up by the unidentified man in the black BMW? Even the strongest are vulnerable. Complete. Not slashy.
1. Just Another Case

**Hey, peoples. I'm In the Face of Darkness, as you can probably tell. So this is set during the episode Blinded by the Thousand Points of Light (at least, I'm pretty sure that's what it's called), and no, I am not going to make Booker or Hanson or any other of the 21 Jump Street characters gay. Anyways, this is my first fanfic. I mean, I've written fan stories and stuff but I haven't posted any fanfics on here before. I guess I've got to put a disclaimer? So here it is.**

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own 21 Jumpstreet or any of the characters, sadly. As this doesn't not include an OC (outside character?), all I own is the plot. **

**Just Another Case**

Dennis Booker sighed impatiently as he and Hanson waited on the streetcorner for the car with tinted windows to come by again. The idea of posing as a male prostitute did not exactly thrill his heart, but hey, an assignment's an assignment. He was freezing and the wind was cold and he had already been standing there for hours.

"I don't think he's going to come back," he muttered to Hanson.

Hanson shook his head. "He doesn't know that we're cops. He probably just thinks we're desperate for work. That could work to our advantage."

"Yeah, well," Booker shrugged. A while ago he and Hanson had seen a young man talking to a man in a car that matched the description of the one in question, and the two had raced over in the hopes that one of them would be able to take his place. Instead, the man had driven off as a minor scuffle ensued, but Booker had been glad that at least no one else would be victimized this time as they suspected Aaron had. The police still had been unable to find him, and Booker had a feeling that finding a homeless prostitute was not high on their list of priorities.

"I'm going to check out down there." He gestured toward the other end of the street. "You stay here. I'll only be a minute."

"All right. I'll keep an eye out up here. Signal me if you see him," Hanson said.

Booker waved an affirmative as he walked down the sidewalk, watching for the car. Few had tinted windows, so spotting it would be easy enough. If the perv decided to come back. So far, no such car was in sight, and unless he'd changed vehicles, the suspect wasn't there. Booker shoved his hands in his pockets and was about to head back when he heard the sound of engines behind him and a car pull up next to him. Could this be it? He turned. Sure enough, it was. He sauntered over to the window, but it was not open enough to see inside.

"How much?" a bodiless voice asked.

Booker thought back to what Doug had told him about the running rates.

"One hundred dollars, man," he said arrogantly.

The window rolled down slightly, although Booker still could not see the man's face.

"You look like my son," the voice said.

An eerie feeling crept over Booker. The guy really was a perv. Hadn't he said that to the prostitute that Booker and Hanson had tackled? They didn't look anything alike. He shrugged the feeling off, but glanced around for Hanson anyways. He was nowhere in sight.

"Whatever, man," he said.

The door unlocked, and Booker opened it and slid inside. The locks clicked back into place.

"So, man, where are we going?" Booker asked.

The man did not answer. His face was still in shadow. Booker fell silent, and for the rest of the ride, neither spoke. It took a while for them to reach a rather unreputable looking place, and Booker wondered if this was where the man had brought Aaron. The two men got out of the car and headed up the stairs to a room where the man took out a key and opened the door. They stepped inside, and the door shudded ominously shut behind them.

* * *

"No thanks," Hanson answered.

"I'll give you one hundred and ten. No more," the man said.

"Look, I don't want more money. I'm just waiting here for my friend."

"Fine. One hundred and twenty," the man bargained.

Hanson looked down the street for Booker, but he couldn't see him anywhere. He's thought he'd found the car himself, but it turned out that another guy had a car with tinted windows as well.

He sighed. "All right."

The fellow smiled like a kid who'd just gotten candy.

"I know a place," Hanson continued.

The man started to drive, and Hanson proceeded to give him directions to the police station.

"Where is it? I don't see any..." the man's voice trailed off.

"Busted." Hanson pulled out his badge.

"Aw, what?" the man complained.

"Told you I didn't want money. Come on."

As he took the man inside, Hanson couldn't help but worry. Where was Booker? The perv was dangerous, he'd probably killed Aaron and who knew how many others. But Booker would be fine. He could take care of himself.

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**Reviews would be awesome. **


	2. A Little Different Now

**To those of you who reviewed, thank you very much. It's nice to know that I'm not totally off-base. Now, on to chapter 2. **

**A Little Different Now**

"Now," said the man when they were inside. "Turn around."

"I don't turn my back on my customers, pal," Booker responded confidently.

The man smiled and removed his hat, and to Booker's surprise, he was old. Older than they expected, at least. The "son" reference was starting to make sense, though. Booker eyed him with distaste as he tried not to think of what the guy might have done to his poor kid.

"All right, then. Strip," the man commanded.

_Not a chance_, Booker thought. Without even making sure that he complied, his "customer" turned and went into the adjoining room. The bathroom? Either way, it didn't matter. Booker took the opportunity to take in his surroundings in the hopes of finding evidence of previous meetings ending, or maybe even beginning, with violence. A blood stain would be nice, as far as evidence was concerned, at least. It wouldn't be so nice for the victims, but that was always the case. Booker glanced cautiously in the direction that the man had disappeared and quietly began to search the room.

It was fairly empty. A bed was located in the middle of the room and obviously presented the main attraction. Needless to say, judging by the area, this was not the man's permanent abode, just a little place set off to the side where no one could catch wind of his "hobby." His very violent, criminal hobby, Booker observed with disgust. He was probably a wealthy businessman, or at least a well-respected, seemingly average citizen. Maybe a lawyer. Booker walked around the bed, but found nothing. No weapons were in sight, but that made sense. The man wasn't an idiot.

Where was he? Booker sighed impatiently. The man was certainly taking his time.

Suddenly the floor behind him creaked, and Booker spun around, but not fast enough. With a crash, the man's blow came down in full force on the side of Booker's head, and Booker crumpled to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, his vision swimming as his head whirled from the injury, only to meet with another vicious attack as the man swung the weapon at him again. This time he blocked it, only to recieve another hit on his unprotected side. The man was stronger than he looked; a rib cracked and Booker doubled over, the breath knocked out of him. Another blow landed on his arm and the bone snapped with an audible sound, and the arm hung uselessly at his side. The man chuckled, realizing that there was no way that Booker could defend himself at that point. He landed a final blow on the back of his victim's neck, forcing him to crumple to the floor in a stunned heap.

Booker had never before been in so much pain. Sure, he'd broken a bone or two before, but not like this. He had always stood up for himself: two eyes for an eye, four teeth for a tooth, that was his motto. But this was different. This time he didn't even have a chance to defend himself. Slowly he sank into unconsciousness, the world spinning and turning black. The last thing that he heard were the first strains of Beethoven's _Ode to Joy_. Where in the heck was the Jump Street team when he needed them?

* * *

"I lost him, Captain."

"What do you mean, 'you lost him,' Hanson?" Fuller demanded. "You two were supposed to call in if you spotted the car!"

"I know, sir," Hanson sighed. "The car hadn't come by and Booker decided that it would be a good idea to head down and check out the other end of the street in case the guy decided to try his luck there. Maybe he did figure that we were cops and that's why he didn't come back."

"I told you not to split up!" The captain growled. "One of you was supposed to go with him and the other was supposed to call in for backup and give us the license plate number. What part of that did you not understand?"

"Look, I'm sorry! I thought I'd found the car but it turned out to be some other guy with the same sort of car! I tried to lose him but he wouldn't give up. I finally had to take him in. Booker was long gone by then anyways," Hanson justified himself angrily.

Fuller just shook his head in disgust. "You're supposed to be a cop, Hanson. You _never_ leave your partner in the lurch." Still shaking his head, he left.

Hanson turned to see Ioki staring at him.

"What?" Hanson challenged. "Mistakes happen! I'm not any happier about this than any of you are!"

Ioki raised his hands. "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to talk to say something," he responded testily. "I'm going home."

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**Reviews are greatly appreciated.**


	3. Saved by the Bell

**Hey, so I changed a couple things in the last chapter, one of them being that I somehow managed to add an "h" to "Doug," and the other being at the very end after Booker's been beaten, so if part of this is slightly confusing, that could be why. Anyways, to those of you who reviewed, thank you very much!**

**Saved by the Bell**

_How on earth did this happen?_ Hanson thought as he approached his car. He was a cop, and a good one, too. Everyone told him that he was "all cop." So why had he let Booker wander off like that? Actually, it wasn't really a matter of "letting" him do anything. Booker was a grown man, and Hanson couldn't have stopped him even if he wanted to, short of accompanying him down the street and leaving their real post. He wasn't responsible for him.

Except that he was. Fuller was right: they were partners, they were supposed to follow procedure, and they definitely weren't supposed to leave the other behind. Hanson kicked the tire of his car in frustration and only ended up hurting his own foot for his troubles. Nothing was going right today. They still hadn't found the poor kid, Aaron, and Doug and Hoffs didn't seem to be making any headway as far as finding him went. And now Booker had disappeared on top of it all. It really was a mess.

"So, what're you going to do about it?" Hanson asked himself, still standing by his car, one hand on the handle as he debated about what to do. Going home certainly wasn't the solution.

"Come on, Hanson, you're a cop, think!" he muttered. Finally he opened the door and slid inside the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Staying at the station and doing nothing was out of the question. Going home was out of the question. Bowling, which always made him feel better, was also out of the question. He might as well go back to where they were when Booker had left and start from there. Hanson fumbled with the keys with now frozen fingers and only managed to drop them multiple times. Angrily he slammed the steering wheel with his fists and rested his forehead on his arms before picking them back up and painstakingly picking out the right one and putting it into the ignition. He started the car and drove off. Across the parking lot Ioki saw the car leave and shook his head before getting into his own car and following.

Even though Hanson wasn't that far from the site, the drive seemed to take forever. Restlessly he drove around the block a few times, not sure what he was hoping to find. Finally he drove a couple blocks away and parked his car. If he was on foot, he could ask around and see if anyone had seen anything. As he walked away, a familiar looking car pulled up and parked near his.

"Hanson!" Ioki called, and he turned.

"Ioki? What're you doing here?"

"I figured that I could help you find Booker. He hasn't really been gone that long, if you think about it. He could still be around here somewhere," Ioki answered.

"I don't need your help," Hanson said.

"I know you don't _need_ it, but if we're both asking around, maybe we'll find something faster."

Hanson started to protest, and then stopped. He sighed.

"All right. Come on."

* * *

_"Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of gl..."_

The unexpected sound was cut off as the man, after one last kick at the now unconscious Booker, reached into his pocket and brought out a cell phone, flipping it open.

"Hi, honey," he said calmly. "How are you? ... No, I haven't forgotten. I'll be there... ... ... Good, good. I'm going to be a little late, though. ... All right. See you there." Disgruntled, he hung up and deposited the cell phone back into his pocket.

"So much for that," he sighed regretfully. "All right, now."

He grabbed Booker by the arms and proceeded to drag him unceremoniously out the door and down the flight of stairs to where he had parked his car in the lot. He opened the passenger door and stuffed the cop inside. He was out of breath by the time he climbed into his own seat. He pulled out a handkerchief and daintily patted his forehead to rid it of the little droplets of sweat. He never would get used to the dead weight. Now, though, he had a place where he needed to be.

* * *

Somewhere along the side of an empty road, a dark car with tinted windows pulled up to the curb and a body was roughly pushed out the door to land in a heap on the pavement. The door closed and the car squealed off, and Dennis Booker lay sprawled on the ground. No one knew where he was, probably no one even cared. Like Aaron, he would probably die on his own, lost forever. Half-heartedly he lifted his head and struggled to pull himself up with his one good arm, only to fall again, broken.

* * *

**As always, reviews are lovely. **


	4. Everyone Makes Mistakes

**Hey, people, sorry about the wait. I know it's been a while. My life's been kind of crazy lately, what with the holidays (aka Thanksgiving and Christmas) and everything in between. Merry Christmas, btw! Thanks for staying with me, and don't forget to review. ;)**

**

* * *

**

**Everyone Makes Mistakes**

"We should split up," Ioki suggested.

Hanson was more than happy to agree. "I'll go back to where I was when Booker went off. You start at the other end of the street and we'll meet in the middle."

Ioki nodded. "All right. We can ask around and see if anyone saw anything."

"No one's going to say anything. They didn't before and they won't now." Hanson was getting more and more frustrated by the minute. Time was going by…fast. And time was the one most important thing that they didn't have, or at least not much of it. Impatiently he started off to his former post without waiting for a reply from his friend, who shook his head and headed in the opposite direction.

Hanson shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, keeping to his cover. It was not unlikely that the other regulars would recognize him, especially the guy who had forced him to leave his station outside the adult movie store, and he still couldn't give away the fact that he was a cop. They still had a case to solve, regardless of what had happened to Booker, even though, or maybe especially because, he had very much become a part of the case himself.

Down the street a ways, he spotted the blond kid who had previously solicited the suspect. Maybe he had seen something. The cop shuffled towards him, keeping his head down.

"Hey, have you seen my partner?" he asked furtively. _Stay in character, Hanson_, he reminded himself.

"_You_ again!" the prostitute snarled. He grabbed Hanson's collar and threw him into the wall. "What, are you going to interrupt my business procedures again? Your friend already stole my customer."

Despite the fact that he was pinned to the wall by the angry man, Hanson felt a small spark of hope.

"What customer?" he asked, pretending to be confused.

"The same one you already tried to steal from me, you moron!" The man shoved him. "And if I catch either of you in my business territory…" He knocked the cop to the ground and straightened his jacket before smiling threateningly and stalking away.

With a slight wince, Hanson picked himself up. Getting pushed around and not doing anything about it was hardly his idea of fun, but it was worth it to get the information that he did. At least _someone_ had seen Booker, and now they knew for sure that he had been picked up by the man in the BMW.

"You all right?" Ioki asked, running up beside him. "I saw you talking to that kid over there. What happened?"

"'Talking' doesn't exactly describe it. He talked and I got pushed around," Hanson said.

"So what did he say?"

A small smile crept onto Hanson's face. "He saw Booker."

"That's great news! Where?"

The smile disappeared. "That's the bad part. He saw him getting into the car."

"The car as in the car that we've been looking for?" Ioki looked around, even though both cops knew that it wouldn't be there.

"Yeah." Hanson nodded and looked at the ground. It was his fault. If he had had Booker's back, Booker wouldn't possibly be dead at the moment. If…

"Hey, Hanson," Ioki interrupted his self-doubts. "We'll find him," he assured him.

"Look, I'm a cop," Hanson began, but Ioki interrupted him again.

"Yeah, and so am I, and so is Booker. We're trained to take care of ourselves."

"We're also supposed to watch each other's backs!" Hanson's voice rose with his irritation.

"Well, that's what we're doing right now, isn't it?" Ioki challenged. "Come on. We're not going to get any more information here."

Hanson sighed. "So what do we do?"

"The only thing we can do. We wait."

* * *

"_Don't stop believin'..._"The taxi driver hummed along to the tune. It had been a long day at work, and he was more than ready to get home and see his wife and kids. He decided to take a shortcut through the abandoned alleyways leading out to the main street on the other side. It was a rough part of town anyways, but the alleys were especially dangerous. Technically, they weren't alleys, but they were empty streets and dark and eerie enough to be considered such.

The man drove along, keeping a watchful eye out. It was not uncommon for crimes to occur there, and he wanted to be aware of his surroundings. He had only driven for a minute or two when he saw a dark shape on the side of the road up ahead. He watched it carefully as he drew closer.

"Probably just some stoned junkie," he sighed and debated about whether or not he should stop. Then he saw the blood on the ground surrounding the limp figure. There was quite a bit of it.

He came to a halt and climbed out of the car, making sure to close the door behind him before approaching the body.

"This better not be a trick," he muttered nervously. "Hey. Hey," he said louder. Lightly he prodded the prone man with his foot, eliciting a groan.

The taxi driver looked around quickly, but no one else was in sight. He knelt and turned the body over. The man's face was covered in blood, and his arm stuck out at an odd angle. He blinked and groaned again.

"What happened to you? We've got to get you to the hospital," his rescuer said. As carefully as he could, he grabbed the fellow under his arms and gradually pulled him towards the back of his car. The man passed out, most likely due to the pain caused by his broken arm being jostled about in such a manner. Finally the taxi driver dragged him into the car to lie across the back seats and sped towards the main street.

"A telephone, I've got to find a telephone!" he whispered to himself anxiously. Once out of the back streets, it didn't take long to find one. He jumped out of his car and raced to the phone booth and picked up the pay phone.

"Operator," he said breathlessly. "Get me the police. Sorry, an ambulance! I need an ambulance!"

* * *

**I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner. **


	5. It Can't Be

**Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy this one. **

**It Can't Be…**

It didn't take long before the sound of sirens filled the air and rapidly grew closer. Soon flashing lights could be seen and momentarily an ambulance and two police cars careened around the corner.

"They're here!" the taxi driver exclaimed to his still unconscious passenger. He stood and waved his arms, even though the paramedics had already hopped out of the ambulance and were bringing over a stretcher.

"Please get out of the way, sir," one of them said, and the taxi driver moved out of the way. He didn't however, leave them alone.

"Is there anything I can do?" he offered wildly. It wasn't everyday that he picked up half-dead, blood-covered men and taxied them to where an ambulance could take care of the rest.

"Sir, please step out of the way," a different paramedic said as two others set the stretcher in front of the back door of the car and prepared to lift the unconscious man onto it. He motioned to a police woman, who came over and led the anxious taxi driver away.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions," she said.

A sudden terror struck the driver. He gasped. "I didn't do it!" he protested. "I swear, I didn't! I just found him like that! All I wanted to do was get home to my wife and kids, but then I saw him lying on the ground and there was all this blood and…"

"Sir. Sir. Sir! It's all right. I just need a statement," the woman told him reassuringly.

Her witness slumped against the nearby police car in relief. "I just want to get home to my wife and kids…"

"All right, sir. You'll be able to go home soon enough. But first things first. What's your name?"

"Jackson Hill," he replied promptly.

"Where did you find him?"

"I was driving through the alleys to get to this street. You know, the alleys right over there? I thought I saw a man lying on the ground and when I got closer I saw all the blood around his head so I went to see if he was still alive and then I dragged him to my car and then I sped..." Hill stopped and his eyes widened.

The police woman tried to hide a smirk.

"No! No! I wasn't speeding! I…"

"It was a figure of speech, I know," she said. "So what happened next?"

"I got to the nearest phone and called for an ambulance!" he finished with a rush.

"Officer Lane!"

One of the paramedics hurried up to join them, and she turned.

"Any ID?" she asked.

The paramedic shook his head. "Whoever did this too him must have taken his wallet or whatever other identification he might have had with him. It's not uncommon."

Lane sighed. "I know, but it would make it a whole lot easier if he hadn't."

* * *

"Hanson, get in the car! Ioki, you too!"

Hanson looked up to see Fuller's car pulled up on the curb in front of him. What now?

"I don't know where he is, Captain," he said tiredly. Hours of waiting and hoping that the car would come back had paid off in nothing. Hanson didn't know why they expected it to anyways. It had been a long enough wait the first time.

"But I might," Fuller said.

Suddenly Hanson was wide awake.

"Where is he?" Ioki asked.

"Get in the car, both of you," Fuller snapped. "You're still under cover here."

The two cops jumped up and slid into the car, and Fuller raced off.

"A man matching Booker's description was found a couple hours ago and taken to a nearby hospital. The police with the ambulance that picked him up called over and asked one of us to come and identify him," Fuller informed them as he drove.

"Is he all right?" Hanson asked.

"He's got a few broken bones, but otherwise it looks like he'll be all right," the captain answered.

It seemed like hours before they reached the hospital, even though in reality it only took a few minutes. Hanson practically jumped out of the car before Fuller had even finished parking.

"What room is he in, Captain?" Ioki asked. Hanson was already speedwalking to the entrance and going into the lobby.

"They didn't say," Fuller said, and they hurried after Hanson.

He was already at the desk.

"I'm sorry, but we have no one here by that name," the clerk said as they entered.

"Not that _name_, someone answering the description of a person with that name!" Hanson ran his fingers through his hair and practically pulled some out in his frustration.

"You don't understand," the clerk said, just as impatiently. "I'm just the clerk. I know who comes in and who comes out…unless their name is unknown, in which case they are checked in as a John or Jane Doe. I don't know who looks like someone else."

"Uh, Mr. Littleton," Fuller interrupted, reading the clerk's nametag.

"What?" he snapped.

Fuller looked at him impassively and showed Littleton his badge, and Ioki followed suit. "I'm Captain Fuller, and these are Officers Hanson and Ioki. We're here to identify a missing person. He would be classified as a John Doe."

The clerk calmed down. "Now if you'd said it like that in the first place," he muttered. He clicked on his computer screen and frowned. "No, that can't be right." He clicked some more and typed in some information and frowned again.

Hanson started to pace impatiently.

"When did he come in?" Littleton asked, looking over the edge of his glasses.

"Earlier tonight. Maybe a few hours ago," Fuller answered.

Littleton sighed, but he didn't sound impatient this time. "Only one John Doe was admitted tonight. For some reason you weren't logged as coming to identify him. Either way, I'm afraid that he's passed on."

Ioki looked stunned, and Hanson stopped in mid-walk.

"Passed on?" Fuller was the only one who didn't freeze.

"It says here that the cause of death was a blood clot that moved to the brain. Death was instantaneous. I'm sorry," Littleton confirmed.

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**Told you I'd update sooner this time. ;) Reviews, anybody? **


	6. No, Really?

**Thanks muchly for the reviews.**

**No, Really?**

Hanson was the first to shake off his stupor.

"He's dead? What do you mean, he's dead?" Hanson shouted. He slammed his fists onto the desk, causing Littleton to jump in his seat.

"Dead as in dead, smart one!" he snapped, his previous irritation returning.

"Hanson!" Fuller barked, well aware that the officer was seconds away from strangling the obnoxious little man. "Is it still possible to go and identify him?" he asked, turning to the clerk.

"Oh yes, it is. Only difference is that you'll be going to the morgue instead of a room," came the snide reply.

Hanson lunged at the man, but Ioki tackled him and kept him from jumping over the desk and attacking him.

"Some people should not work in hospitals," Ioki observed disapprovingly.

"This isn't funny, Ioki!" Hanson yelled. "Booker. Is. Dead. Get off of me!" He shrugged away.

"We don't know that! He hasn't been identified yet!" Ioki argued.

"You don't get it, Harry," Hanson said. He shook his head and smiled in disbelief. "He wasn't your partner on this case. _You_ weren't the one who let your fellow cop down. You are _sitting_ here and making _jokes_ when one of us is _dead_," he said, emphasizing the words. "You..."

"That's where the trouble with being all cop comes in," Ioki replied angrily. "You're upset, not because a friend might be dead, not because a _person_ might be dead, but because you let your partner down and that reflects on you as a cop. You didn't even _like_ the guy!"

"You two! That's enough!" Fuller said, raising his voice. He walked over to stand between them as the two glared daggers at each other. "Mr. Littleton, where's the morgue?"

"I'll call for his doctor. He's on his break now. He'll take you down," Littleton answered hurriedly. He seemed even more eager to get rid of them than before.

"Thank you," Fuller said and sent his officers a warning glance.

Momentarily Littleton was off the phone and the doctor arrived to escort them.

"I take it you're the officers who were coming to identify the body," the doctor said and offered his hand. Fuller and Ioki shook it, and Hanson reluctantly followed suit. "I'm sure Littleton told you that I was his doctor."

"Yes, he did," Fuller said as they followed him. "The clerk said that he died of a blood clot?"

"Not too long ago, either," the doctor nodded regretfully. "It was quite unexpected. Ah, here we are."

He opened a door and they stepped into a cold, white room lined with drawers that Hanson knew must contain the bodies.

"Right this way."

They followed the doctor to one of the drawers and he pulled it open with an ominous sounds. Gently he lifted the sheet from over the dead man's face. Hanson stared.

"That's not Booker," Ioki said.

"No, it's not." Fuller looked relieved.

The sudden hope left Hanson as quickly as it came.

"You know what this means, though," he said solemnly.

Fuller nodded.

"He's still out there."

* * *

Voices. That was the noise that he heard. Voices. Blearily he opened his eyes, but everything around him seemed blurry.

"Hold on, it looks like he's coming to," one of the voices said.

Moving. They were moving. He looked around, but everything was still out of focus. All he could see were vague shapes and a blur of colors.

"Where am I?" he mumbled.

"You're in an ambulance," a different voice said. "It's okay. We're getting you to the hospital. You're going to be all right."

The ambulance jolted over a bump in the road, and an overwhelming pain seared through him. The voices grew hazier and he fell back into the darkness.

* * *

**The Next Day…**

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Booker awoke to the sound of steady beeping. What the heck? He opened his eyes and looked around. White sheets, white floor, white room, white everything. And on top of everything else, he was wearing a white hospital gown. That explained everything. Well, that and the heart monitor.

"Great," he muttered. His broken arm was encased in a white cast, and the other one had an IV sticking into it, most likely filling him with pain meds. No wonder his head felt so fuzzy.

Automatically he tried to reach into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, only to realize that 1: neither of his arms could move very well, 2: he didn't have pockets, and 3: his jacket was laid out across a chair on the opposite side of the room and it was unlikely that he would be able to reach it anytime soon.

He sighed. "Perfect."

The door opened and a woman wearing a white uniform walked in. She must be the nurse.

"I see that you're awake!" she said cheerfully. "How's the pain?"

"I've been better," he answered. "What happened?"

Her smile faded. "You don't remember? Oh dear. Well, I'd better get the doctor for you."

"Hey! Before you leave, do you think you could hand me my jacket?" he called, but she had already left and closed the door.

He looked at the clock. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Five minutes later the door opened again and a doctor stepped inside.

"I'm Dr. Carter," he said. "I'm glad to see that you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Not bad," Booker allowed. "What happened?"

"Do you remember anything?" Carter asked.

"Not really," Booker admitted. "At least not after the guy knocked me out."

"So you do remember that much, that's good," Carter said and made some notes on his notepad. "You were found by the side of the road. Whoever left you there must have taken your ID."

_Left me for dead_, Booker thought. "My name's Dennis Booker. I'm a cop," he said aloud. "Does anyone know where I am?"

Carter shook his head. "You're registered as a John Doe. I've got to go check your information. If you need anything, push the button here to call for a nurse."

"Wait!" Booker stopped him. "So no one knows where I am?" he clarified.

"No."

* * *

**Nope, Booker's not dead. XD I couldn't bear to kill him. He's my favorite character! Anyways, reviews are greatly appreciated, as always. **


	7. Reunited

It's the penultimate chapter, my friends. I hope you're not

_**too**_** excited for it to be over. ;) Only one more to go after this buddy. **

**Reunited**

_**After they find out that Booker is not dead and before the next day when Booker wakes up… **_

"Thank you for your time, Doctor," Fuller said, and they left.

The drive back to the station was silent. When they got there, Fuller went to his office and Hanson sat down at his desk to work on a pile of paperwork.

When Hanson finally looked at the clock, it was 3 o'clock in the morning.

"Hey, Captain," Ioki said. "I'm heading home." He left.

Fuller came out of his office and stood in front of Hanson's desk. "Hanson, what are you still doing here?"

Hanson sighed tiredly. "Paperwork."

"Hanson, go home," he said in a voice that left no room for argument.

He went home.

Two hours later, he sat staring at the wall, unable to go to sleep. He kept hearing his friend's accusation, and no amount of thinking could drown it out.

"_That's where the trouble with being all cop comes in…You're upset, not because a friend might be dead…but because you let your partner down and that reflects on you as a cop. You didn't even like the guy!"_

It was true, he and Booker never had gotten along, but that didn't mean that they were enemies. At least, not really. They were both cops, and unfortunately they worked at the same station. But Hanson would never, ever, let his dislike of a fellow cop get in the way of duty.

_Exactly like Ioki said_, whispered the niggling voice in his head. Angrily he tried to brush the thought away.

There was still one thing he could do. He got up and walked over to the phone, sat down, and picked up the phone book. He would call every hospital one by one and see if they had any John Does or Dennis Bookers registered anytime during the past day. Two minutes later he was asleep.

* * *

_**After Booker wakes up…**_

Booker felt as if he had been waiting for hours, probably because he had been. After the doctor had left, the nurse had come back in to make sure that he was comfortable and to tell him that two police officers would be along momentarily. That was two hours ago. At least he'd been able to ask for his jacket this time. Good thing she didn't know why he wanted it. He had a feeling that smoking wasn't allowed in the hospital, due to the general overpowering cleanliness of the place and especially considering the fact that "No Smoking" signs with a picture of a cigarette inside a red circle with a dash across it were plastered practically everywhere. Finally the door opened and Dr. Carter escorted a young police woman inside.

"This is Officer Lane," Carter said. "She was there when you were picked up. Now if you'll excuse me, I have another patient to attend to." He rushed off, not even noticing that Booker had continued to smoke casually.

"You really should not be doing that," the woman said dryly.

"Yeah, well, I've been trying to quit," he said sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored his tone and sat down in the adjacent chair, pulling out a notepad.

"So," she started conversationally. "I hear that your name's Dennis Booker." When he didn't answer, she continued. "What happened?"

"Look, I'm a cop," he started.

"So you say," she observed. "I am too. I'm assuming that you were undercover. I just need to know what unit you're with so that we can contact them. I'd also like to file my report, which means I need to know what happened. Did you get attacked due to your case?"

"Just let me call the chief," Booker said impatiently.

"Then tell me what unit you're with," Lane countered.

"I'm with 21 Jump Street in the chapel. Now…"

"I thought so!" she exclaimed.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"My cousin Tommy works over there. Apparently he and some other officers work undercover in schools and other places. I take it you're the one that he's been griping about lately." She sounded amused. "Anyways, I'll have someone call your chief right away. Fuller, isn't it? Good." She stood up to leave. "Oh, and by the way, by the time I'm back here that cigarette had better be gone," she said.

* * *

_**5:15 in the afternoon…**_

Hanson awoke to a pounding on his door.

"Hanson! Hanson!" the chief yelled.

"I'm up," he mumbled. Then he remembered the events from the day before and jumped up, glancing at the clock. How could it be that late?

"We've found Booker," Ioki informed him when he opened the door.

"What? Where?" Hanson asked, confused. "When?"

"Booker. Hospital. Now," Fuller said. Hanson wasn't sure whether he was answering his questions or giving an order, but either way, five minutes later they were Fuller's car racing to the hospital on the other side of town, a different one than the one that they had gone to the night before.

When they got there, they were greeted by the desk clerk, who directed them to Booker's room. Suddenly a thought occurred to Hanson as they stood in the elevator.

"Do Doug and Judy know anything about this?" he asked.

Fuller shook his head. "Both of them are still on the streets looking for the kid, Aaron."

The elevator door opened, and they stepped out and headed down the hall, only to run into a uniformed police officer coming towards them.

"Tommy!" she greeted Hanson with a hug.

"Lane," he returned.

Fuller and Ioki looked on, bemused.

"Cousin," he explained.

"I take it you're here to see Booker. He's alive and well, don't worry," she reassured them. "Here, I'll take you there."

They walked down the hall a short ways back in the direction that she came and she opened the door, beckoning them inside.

"Here are your friends, Booker," she announced them.

* * *

**C'mon, Hanson isn't as heartless as Ioki said he is, is he? Nah, he just has faults, same as everyone else. He tends to be hard on himself, though, doesn't he? Reviews would be nice. One more chapter to go. **


	8. In the End

**Here it is, the end of the adventure. I'm definitely putting a disclaimer here (I only own the plot twist and Lane and whatever other random people not found in the sereies) because at the end of this dealie, I took most of the dialogue/scene from…well, that scene. You'll see what I mean when you get there. You'll probably recognize it. **

**In the End**

Friends. That was an interesting way to put it. Booker had never really fit in with the rest of the Jump Street crew. He'd been there, and they'd gotten along well enough after a while, but friends? Hanson wasn't sure whether Lane was using her own words as she was apt to do or repeating whatever Booker had said. He guessed that it was the former. Why would Booker consider them friends? He viewed them the same way they viewed him.

"Booker," Fuller greeted him kindly. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Booker said for the millionth time. He smiled cockily. "What took you so long?" he joked.

An awkward silence ensued. Ioki glanced at Hanson, who was staring at the floor, and Fuller seemed at a loss for words.

"Forget it," Booker said. "It was just a joke."

"It's not a joke to me when I lose an officer, Booker," Fuller said sternly. His face softened. "But I'm glad you're all right. Last thing I need is one of my men dying on me."

More silence.

"So, what happened?" Ioki asked. "Hanson and I went looking for you when you disappeared."

"It's all in Lane's report," Booker replied shortly.

More silence.

Lane rolled her eyes. "Men," she sighed, and got up from her seat.

"Well, I guess we'd better be going," Ioki said, breaking the pause and following suit. Lane was out the door first, with Ioki and Fuller close behind, but Hanson hung back.

"Hang in there, Booker," Fuller said as he left.

"Thanks, Cap'n," Booker said. As soon as he heard the door shut he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, picking one out and lighting it.

"I thought it smelled kind of funny in here," Hanson said.

Booker looked up. "What, you're still here, Tommy?" he said tauntingly.

"Don't call me Tommy," Hanson said automatically. Booker hadn't changed a bit. "What happened to you?" he nodded towards Booker's broken arm.

"Perv got the better of me," Booker said, taking a long drag out of his cigarette. "Stop pacing, man, you're making me nervous."

He sat down reluctantly.

"Now, what do you want?" Booker asked. "Here to gloat? This could be you, you know."

"Yeah," Hanson admitted.

"Hey, how come you never told me you had a hot cousin?" Booker asked.

Hanson ignored him. "Has your mom been notified yet?"

Booker shook his head. "No. I didn't want to worry her."

They sat in silence, Booker smoking his cigarette and Hanson staring at the floor as if he were trying to puzzle something out.

"You know the worst part about this whole thing, Hamburger?" Booker asked suddenly.

Hanson looked up.

"I have no idea what happened after he broke my arm and hit me over the head," Booker admitted.

"I thought he knocked you out before he dumped you by the side of the road," Hanson said, confused.

"Yeah, that's what I told your cousin. I just wasn't exact on the time," Booker answered.

"What, so you don't remember getting back in the car?"

"No." He paused. "I remember looking around in his little apartment to see if I could find any sign of what he'd been doing, but it was clean. I turned around and he attacked me. Broke my arm, knocked me down. That's the last thing I remember."

"We're going to find him!" Hanson said vehemently.

Booker laughed humorlessly. "Easy, Hamburger."

"This guy needs to be put behind bars!" Hanson defended himself. "I'm going back on the streets tonight."

"Does Fuller know about this?" Booker asked.

Hanson shook his head. "Not yet."

The door opened again and Lane popped her head in.

"Tommy! Fuller's calling for you." She turned to Booker. "I'm sure Tommy would love to stay and chat, but duty calls."

"Yeah, Tommy. Duty calls," Booker echoed mockingly.

Hanson glared at his cousin, frustrated. She raised in her hands in mock defense.

"All right, all right, I'll tell him you're coming." She popped back out and closed the door behind her.

"Look, we're going to catch this guy," Hanson finally said.

"Sure you are," Booker said, staring straight ahead. He leaned back against his pillows.

Hanson stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hey, Dennis."

"What?" Booker asked blandly.

"Nevermind," Hanson sighed and turned to leave.

"Hey, Hanson."

"What?"

"Be careful with that guy. Don't turn your back on him, and whatever you do, don't get distracted," Booker warned him.

Hanson nodded. "Thanks."

* * *

_**That night…**_

Hanson looked down the street expectantly. Sure enough, there it was, the car with tinted windows. It pulled up to the curb and he leaned down to look through the window.

"Guess you're lookin' for more than just directions, huh?" he asked.

The doors unlocked and Hanson climbed in. Once they reached the hotel, they went inside, and the man waved Hanson up the stairs ahead of him. When they entered the room, he remembered Booker's advice and turned around, keeping an eye on the man in front of him. He was old, and his next words sent a chill up Hanson's spine.

The man smiled and studied him in an almost patronizing manner. "You look just like my son."

Hanson didn't answer, and the man shrugged out of his overcoat.

"Turn around," he ordered. "Let's have a look at you."

"I don't turn my back on nobody," Hanson said, unmoving.

"Well, you're on my time now," the man said and turned to go into the bathroom. He came out with a towel. "Going rate okay?" he asked.

"Being?"

"Seventy-five a shot," the man smirked.

Hanson nodded and faced the window as the man went into the other room again. He waited until he heard the man's footsteps behind him and then whipped around, pointing his gun at the man's head.

"Drop the stick," he ordered.

The man stood in shock as Hanson pulled out his badge. "You're under arrest."

The man dropped his weapon and raised his hands in surrender. "No. God, no."

Hanson put away his badge while keeping his gun pointed at the man's head.

"I've read stuff that tells me I'm supposed to feel sorry for guys like you," he said with disgust. "But right now I don't!" He shoved the man against the wall.

"Please, please, please, please don't do this! You're going to ruin so much," the man begged as the handcuffs snapped around his wrists.

"There's a boy named Aaron. Where is he?" Hanson demanded.

"I don't know their names, I don't want to know," the man repeated.

Hanson shoved him again. "Come on!"

"I don't know, I don't want to know," the man whispered. "Not before, not afterwards, I don't want to know."

"Well, that's your problem." Hanson marched him out of the room. "What about Booker?"

"I just told you, I don't know!" the man protested, panicked.

"Cocky, dark hair, dressed in black! You picked him up yesterday and then left him on the streets to die!"

"I got a call from my wife reminding me about our dinner reservation. I was running late. I had just picked him up and we'd only just gotten back to the apartment when I caught him snooping around and my wife rang and I had to leave and I just dumped him along some road, I don't know where, and…"

The man continued to babble his confession as Hanson took him to the police office to book him.

* * *

_**The next morning (still at the hospital)...**_

"Hey, Booker. How are you feeling?" Judy asked.

"Yeah, man, we just heard what happened," Doug added.

"Hanson busted the guy we were looking for," Fuller said. "He gave us a full confession."

Booker glanced at Hanson. "This means…?" he said.

"Case is over," Fuller answered.

Booker smiled. "Cap'n, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah."

"You call the Y and tell them to burn my stuff?"

"You got it," Fuller affirmed.

"Thanks. Hey, did you two ever find Aaron?" he asked Doug and Judy.

"Yeah," Doug said quietly. "He was dead. Had been for two days."

Booker went silent.

"I'm glad you're all right, Booker," Judy said.

"Yeah," Ioki agreed.

"I guess we'd better head back to the station," Fuller said. "There's a lot of paperwork to take care of." He and the other cops left, except for Hanson.

"Well?" Booker prompted. "Full confession? What did he say?"

"Apparently you had just fallen unconscious when his wife rang him to remind him of their dinner date," Hanson said. "He dragged you to the car, took your wallet, and dumped you onto some random street. End of story."

"Thanks, Hamburger."

"No problem, Book."

* * *

**So. There you have it. I'd really appreciate reviews on this one, being the end and all. Good, bad, mediocre? Worth reading? Better off being deleted off the face of FanFiction and never being spoken of again? I'd love to know. **

**Aaaaaaaaaand I just realized that while I made sure to have the taxi driver run to the nearest pay phone instead of having a cell phone, the thought never even crossed my mind when I gave the perv a cell phone at the beginning…so much for authenticity. Oops. My bad. :/ Anyways, that's the end of it all. Thanks muchly to all of you who have reviewed and stayed with me. Hope you enjoyed it! **


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